


say something

by nezstorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Deathfic, Enchanted Knife, Fae & Fairies, Fatal Wound, Implied Relationships, Knife Wound, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 05:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13920534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/nezstorm
Summary: There was something unsettling in the way Peter looked at him as Stiles stormed into the warehouse, as if he were devouring him whole. Learning all he could in a single gaze, eyes sweeping over Stiles, taking him in. Memorizing. Inhaling as if either one of them was about to disappear. As if he could see an ending in the works.As if bracing for something terrible.---Peter had a plan, a plan he didn't tell Stiles about. When Stiles finds him, it's already too late.





	say something

**Author's Note:**

> When I reread this fic I always hear it in preslai182's voice because of this [podfic they've done for it years back.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1129363)

It felt as if his heart didn't fit his chest anymore. As if it no longer belonged to him, but to someone else. As if it beat in another’s rhythm. For someone. Because of someone.

And then the rhythm stopped.

\--

There was something unsettling in the way Peter looked at him as Stiles stormed into the warehouse, as if he were devouring him whole. Learning all he could in a single gaze, eyes sweeping over Stiles, taking him in. Memorizing. Inhaling as if either one of them was about to disappear. As if he could see an ending in the works.

As if bracing for something terrible.

Stiles could see no reason for that type of look. Not until Peter fell to his knees, crumbled to the floor. A knife embed deep into his stomach.

“PETER. NO!”

\--

Stiles was at his side in an instant, sliding to his knees. He hesitated for a second, hand hovering over the knife for a brief moment before pulling it out. He threw the blade to the side, the clank of metal echoing in the otherwise empty warehouse. Tearing his shirt off his arms in jerky movements he balled it up and pressed over the wound.

Peter blacked out after hitting the ground, but Stiles discarding of the knife must have brought a wave of pain strong enough to bring him back to consciousness. His pained moan went right through Stiles making him bite back a hurt sound of his own.

Peter was pale, beads of cold sweat covering his forehead, his hand clammy when Stiles clutched at it with his own. His breath came in gasps and he seemed to be struggling with keeping his eyes open. Stiles leaned over him to make it easier for the wolf to see him and for Stiles to see Peter.

“’S okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll heal in a bit and then I’ll be able to punch you without feeling guilty, you fucking idiot.” He chastised, the softness of his voice belying the threat. He let go of Peter’s fingers long enough to brush strands of hair from the werewolf’s forehead. “Why did you go off on your own? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Had a plan. Needed you safe.” Peter said through clenched teeth making Stiles frown. Because Peter didn’t look like he was getting better at all. In fact, his face was scrunched up in pain, eyes tightly shut and fingers clamped on Stiles’ so tightly they felt close to breaking.

Stiles peeled the shirt away from the wound and paled. No. No, this was all wrong. The wound was still gaping open and bleeding heavily. The blood pooled around Peter and soaked through Stiles’ jeans where he was kneeling, there was so much of it. _Why was there so much blood?!_

“Why aren’t you healing? Peter! Why isn’t the wound healing?” Stiles asked in a weak voice, his heart thundering in his chest. He looked frantically from Peter’s face to the wound and back.

_No._

“Fae magic. The knife might have been… enchanted.” Peter grunted out before a coughing fit had him almost doubling in half, his scream like a knife to Stiles’ own gut because-

“Oh god. Oh god no. No, no. No, this can’t be. Peter, are you sure?” He scrambled closer to Peter’s head, his wet jeans making an unpleasant squelching sound as he moved He cupped the man’s face in his hands smearing blood over one of them as he tried to get Peter to focus on him.

_God no, please._

“Peter? Peter! Stay awake, you dick. C’mon!”

If what Peter said was true, if the knife was cursed somehow… He made it all worse.

“I made it worse, I made it all worse.” He pulled out the knife, he opened the wound wider, tore at something probably. He killed him. He killed Peter.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Peter, please. You _can’t._ ” He sobbed, holding Peter’s face so tightly his fingers turned white, but Peter made no sound. As if he couldn’t feel it at all.

Peter lifted one hand and dropped it one of Stiles’, his grip on Stiles’ finger so weak that Stiles had to hold onto him himself.

“Shh, it’s okay. Not your fault.” Peter slurred, his voice weak, gurgled. “You didn’t know, wouldn’t change anything. Shh.”

“But you would have more time, we could have more time. Why did you have to fight them all on your own, you fucking idiot?!” Stiles half screamed and the bastard actually smiled at him at that.

“Peter. Peter, please. _Please_. You already died once, you can’t do it again.” He didn’t know which one of them was shaking, didn’t know if Peter could still see him, could hardly see him himself through the tears.

He could barely hear him.

“Say something. Please.”

Peter kept smiling at him, just a slight curve at the corner of his lips. Smiling that unnerving gentle smile Stiles loved so much because it was only his. He loathed it in this moment, hated Peter for saying goodbye.

“Say something.” He begged, pressed the plea into Peter’s chilling lips.

“Peter.” He called, but there was no answer.

“ _Please_.”

Not even a breath.


End file.
